


To Go

by orphan_account



Series: Savory & Sweet [1]
Category: Ghostbusters (2016)
Genre: AU, F/F, Food Truck, Kevin isn't completely dumb, Meet-Cute, Pre-Relationship, no ghostbusters, sorry Abby fans
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-08
Updated: 2016-10-08
Packaged: 2018-08-20 07:45:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,222
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8241737
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Based on a prompt from Qym to help me get unblocked - Holtzmann owns a food truck. AU. Holtzbert meet-cute.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Qym](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Qym/gifts).



> thank you to Qym for getting me to write something when I felt like my muse had gone - I hope that you like this version much better than the one I sent to you.
> 
> DISCLAIMER: I OWN NOTHING

Jillian Holtzmann was a woman of many talents; she was a brilliant chef, a skillful businesswoman, a wonderful entrepreneur at the best of times (who _doesn’t_ like being their own boss?) and a good friend to her loveable puppy of an employee Kevin, whom she’d hired off of the streets where he’d been “unofficially” modeling underwear outside of Abercrombie, who reaped the benefits of his handsomeness without actually _paying_ him.

 

And today was a day just like any other in New York City, late September, the chlorophyll was just beginning to break down and cause the leaves to change color around and about the cityscape of Central Park and people were beginning to bundle up a little tighter with light jackets and scarves. But business, as usual, never slowed down for her.

 

As eleven AM crept, Holtzmann climbed out of her tiny Chelsea studio and loaded her bag onto a two-ton black food-truck with neon green slime-design font casing along the side reading _ECTO-BURGER “Out of this World Good!”_ And started her up with a heady purr.

 

“Mornin’ baby! Shall we get this day started?” she asked her investment, pushing her favorite yellow steampunk glasses up her nose, tossing her worn, soft leather jacket over the back of the drivers’ seat. Checking that nothing was out of place that shouldn’t be, lest it roll around during her trek, she made her way up four blocks toward Madison Square where she normally met Kevin.

 

“Morning boss!” the Australian greeted and Holtzmann two-finger saluted at her blonde companion who hopped up into the passenger seat and began checking some of their inventory logs. “So, where’re we going today?”

 

“I was thinking maybe Upper West Side for the lunch rush then afterwards, heading back down to Hell’s Kitchen – been a while since we’ve been down there, I’ve had a few requests,” Holtzmann rattled off as Kevin nodded along to the 80’s tunes that played over the speakers, squinting at the page in his hands behind his black lens-less frames (he took them out after complaining they just kept getting dirty after he’d try to rub his eyes).

 

Holtzmann rolled her own affectionately at her slightly odd work companion. Kev was as sweet and as loyal as could be, and he wasn’t always half as dumb as many people made him out to be, he was just _different_. And different is what Holtzmann excelled at; she had a ton of life experiences growing up as a child in the system – so she was never one to judge a book by its cover.

 

Most people took one glance at Holtz and saw a weirdo or a freak as she’d been dubbed in middle school – besides _ghost tits_ ; she dressed like a 1920’s gangster that got lost inside of the closet of an 1800’s mad scientist in the middle of a rock concert, on _good_ days – not to mention her affinity for yellow glasses.

 

When she was eight years old, she got saddled with a middle-aged welder who was still stuck in 1970’s fashion sense and didn’t care much for what other people had to say about it. He gave Holtzmann her very first pair of colored specs when she had a migraine one day – they were red and although they looked cool, Holtzmann didn’t like the way the rose-tint washed out the colors of the world around her.

 

So on her ninth birthday he gifted her with a set of amber lenses that had actually been his old safety goggles, which still had the same affect at helping ease her migraines without completely distorting her love of color and she began to see the world in a much more cheerful manner – she kept them long after she was taken away from him since a surprise visit from the shelter caught him with pot and now owned at least twelve different styles of them all around her apartment, but the ones she wore today were by far her favorite – rounded, polycarbonate lenses with light, yet durable stainless steel frames and wire-mesh siding to help block out the harsh whites and blues from around her peripheral.

 

* * *

  
 

They parked outside of a beautiful campus lawn that was still lush and spotted with very few dead leaves as maintenance kept up with the appearances for the University’s sake. A few students were already milling about in between classes and Holtzmann took in a deep lungful of air enjoying the familiar scenery; Columbia had been much nicer to hang around as a student than her later education at M.I.T. which was more about bettering their education than focusing on their looks, but she was always happy to visit either one – her former mentor, Dr. Rebecca Gorin, still worked at M.I.T. and often enjoyed having Holtzmann come up and work on projects with her.

 

Holtzmann paused when she spotted the familiar dark blue and white food truck a few yards away, named simply for the owner of the truck _Patty’s_ , and she grinned. Patty had disliked Holtzmann at first when the younger woman showed up at a lot of the same places she had sold at, but the mouthy woman grew to like Holtzmann’s eccentricities and they built a slow, but lasting friendship.

 

“Hey Kev, I’m gonna go say hi really quick, don’t forget to butter the buns _before_ you throw them on the grill-” Holtzmann reminded the beefy blonde who was slurping a relish-green like liquid from a catsup bottle. “And stop drinking the ecto-sauce!” she laughed as Kev had the decency to look ashamed when he was caught and began firing up the grills and the fryers.

 

The dark beauty noticed her approaching from her truck and set down her thick tomb on a history of New York – a subject that Holtzmann knew Patty was quite passionate and had a plethora of knowledge about – before joining the blonde outside of her own truck.

 

“Hey there baby! How’s business?” Patty asked, giving Holtzmann a warm hug which Holtzmann gladly accepted; she being one of three people in the world that Holtzmann felt comfortable touching.

 

“It’s going as well as can be – if my coworker would stop eating our merch, that’d be better,” Holtzmann gave a nonchalant lopsided smile.

 

“I still don’t know why you hired that big dumb dude – I got a cousin Mookie-”

 

“I like Kev just _fine_ , he’s loyal and he just started learning how to unload the freezer the way I like it,” Holtzmann defended and Patty smiled kindly.

 

“You’re too good for this world, boo – anyway, lunch rush just let out, I best get to cookin’ – we still on for drinks at Moe’s Friday?” Patty gave her one last hug.

 

“Anytime, anyplace Patty-cakes!” Holtzmann called out over her shoulder, offering her a two-fingered salute as she headed back toward her own truck where Kevin was waiting on their first customer.

 

“Time to make a living!” Holtzmann cheered as she greeted Kev with a high-five on the truck and joined him at the grill, tossing a few extra patties onto the sizzling metal that attracted more mouthwatering students by the minute.

 

The secret to her success? Holtzmann grinned as she offered up an extra cup of her secret recipe and the namesake of her truck: ecto-sauce.

 

“There’s three veggie-patties with mustard and a side of ecto! Enjoy!” Holtzmann offered another paying customer who looked ready to devour the green goo-like deliciousness that Holtzmann herself had concocted years ago in college as a result of another late night spent in the lab, attempting to find something better to season her nightly meal of Ramen with besides those weird flavor-packets that tasted _nothing_ like what they were intended to.

 

The sauce reminded her fondly of ectoplasm – a form of matter that was left behind on the light spectrum by specters of all things, that she’d found quite an interesting topic during a Paranormal Physics class she’d taken on a dare once.

 

“Hey boss, the dogs are done,” Kev called over his shoulder, just in the knick of time for another order of hotdogs with extra kraut and ecto-sauce.

 

“Kev, I need more ecto in some of those cups, please and thanks!” Holtzmann said as she began flipping burgers and shaking the fryers with onion rings and chopping veggies, sending a few flirty winks at some freshmen girls who would giggle as she prepped their food.

 

“Make sure to tell your friends! We’ll be back around so long as you request it!” Holtzmann called out after a few students who left with grease-stained paper bags and bright smiles.

 

“We’re killin’ it, boss!” Kev said from the front where he was placing another satchel of cash into the safe under her seat and marking it on their logs.

 

“Awesome job, buddy,” Holtzmann beamed, scraping extra grease off of the fryer and into the spill pan. She was so caught up in cleaning she didn’t notice the newcomer at first.

 

“Excuse me,” a timid voice that sounded like a wind chime to Holtzmann’s ears alerted her to the new presence.

 

“Wel-” Holtzmann tripped over her own words and the breath in her lungs felt as if it had been vacuumed out as her eyes spotted the redhead. She was certainly too old to be a student, and with the incredibly odd tweed suit she was wearing and – _was that a bowtie? It’s so tiny!_ Holtzmann _loved_ ties – blue eyes glanced cautiously up at Holtzmann and eyebrows furrowed into an adorably confused expression.

 

“Welcome to ECTO-Burger, what can I get for ya?” Holtzmann heard Kev ask for her. “Hey boss, you okay? You look all sweaty – _ow_!” Holtzmann would allow herself to feel guilty later for crushing her friends foot under the sole of her combat boots, but it got him to shut up.

 

“I’m sorry – I wasn’t actually looking for lunch…” the redhead stammered. “I was just looking for someone who could help me locate the science building? It’s my first day and I thought – well, I guess that I was wrong that you aren’t students?” Holtzmann shook her head at the woman’s adorable rambling, placing her chin in her palm as she rested against the side of the truck in awe.

 

“No, but you’re in luck because I used to be,” Holtzmann offered and the woman’s relieved smile made Holtzmann’s stomach feel funny. “You wanna turn around and head straight through those two buildings there, then take a left at the bronze statue of Dr. Spengler. It’ll be the gray-bricked building right behind,” Holtzmann pointed and the redhead’s blue eyes brightened.

 

“ _Thank_ you, that’s really kind!” she smiled.

 

“Not from around here?” Holtzmann asked, not quite ready to see the redhead go just yet.

 

“No, I’ve just transferred from Princeton, I’m going to be teaching Theoretical Particle Physics under Dr. Filmore,” she answered.

 

“Well color me green for those lucky students who get to stare at you all day,” Holtzmann winked and the redhead’s cheeks burned a lovely shade of magenta that she wished she could see again and again.

 

“Oh,” the woman chuckled, shooting her finger guns – _fucking adorable_ – “well, I must be going – hate to be late on my first day!”

 

“Wait!” Holtzmann called out, almost instinctually, before realizing that she had nothing to actually _say_. The woman paused, looking back at Holtzmann, her face scrunching adorably.

 

Holtzmann blinked and whipped around the front side of the truck where Kev was messing with the cappuccino machine, she quickly loaded up a vanilla crème and waited impatiently as it stuttered to life and then dripped into the paper cup. She grabbed a coffee collar and placed a lid on it before handing it to the startled redhead who’d been trying to glance into the truck to see what the woman was doing.

 

“Here – you may need it for your first day with those students – if they were anything like me, that is,” Holtzmann winked and the redhead looked pleasantly surprised.

 

“Why, thank you-”

 

“Holtzmann – but my friends call me Holtz, _you_ can call me Holtz,” Holtzmann wished she knew why her voice was coming out so fast and high.

 

“I’m Erin… with an E,” the redhead – _Erin_ – added as an afterthought.

 

 _Can that be an E for Everything I want?_ Holtzmann smiled, slightly star-struck.

 

“What?” Erin asked, blushing.

 

“What?” Holtz’ eyes widened in panic. _Shit, did I say that out loud!?_

 

“Uhm – well, I-I … _thanks_ for the coffee, and the directions! I uhm – it was lovely meeting you, Holtzmann - _Holtz_ ,” Erin corrected and began walking the way she intended, blushing and stammering, but not looking offended, only _surprised_ and slightly bashful.

 

“See you around?” Holtzmann called out, hopeful. When Erin turned and offered her another finger gun and a smile that turned into a goofy wave, Holtzmann waited until she was facing the opposite direction before jerking her arm in a _yes_ motion and then doing a little dance – until she noticed Kevin staring at her, slack jawed from the front of the truck, still nursing his foot.

 

“Let’s get packed up, shall we?” Holtzmann coughed, feeling her cheeks flame as Kevin just nodded and helped get things in order for them to head out to their next destination.

 

Holtzmann couldn’t help but glance back out of the truck in hopes that she’d see the redhead again soon.

**Author's Note:**

> For those who wanted to know what I thought of the ecto-sauce... it would be something similar to this in color and texture
> 
> http://www.itsalwayssomeonesbirthday.com/2012/05/ghostbusters-green-slime-cupcakes.html


End file.
